


Dishonor

by Cobweb_Quill



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Hopeful Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobweb_Quill/pseuds/Cobweb_Quill
Summary: It disturbed Zuko how much longing he felt from simply receiving a look from another boy. One he didn’t even like! It was pathetic. Was he truly so desperate?
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

The weeks following Zuko and Aang’s excursion to the Sun Warrior’s ancient city were better than Zuko had dared let himself hope for. Thanks to the invaluable gift bestowed upon them by the Masters, his firebending was stronger than it had ever been—a sullen ember transformed into a mighty conflagration—and Aang, despite his previous hang-ups with the element, took to the forms quickly with his usual childlike enthusiasm.

Now that he was contributing something useful to the party, Zuko no longer felt like such a pariah and could begin delicately carving out a niche for himself in the Avatar’s inner circle. He was aided greatly by Aang and Toph, who were always goading him into joining group conversations when he might otherwise have chosen to remain in the background, quiet and unobtrusive. Things weren’t perfect, what with the way the Earth Kingdom kids still mostly avoided him, preferring to roam the air temple ruins at all hours of the night and day, giving him blank stares whenever Zuko called out a greeting or attempted to chat. Katara remained cold and suspicious, speaking to him in icy tones when she had to at all. The only thing worse than her threatening demeanor had to be the rage-inducing presence of her older brother, Sokka, who seemed determined to make every moment of his day aggravating.

Ever since Aang’s firebending training had begun in earnest, Sokka had made a habit of sitting in on a good portion of their lessons; plopping himself down in some corner with an array of weapons spread around him, busying himself with whetting his various blades. Of course, he chattered ceaselessly the entire time, throwing out snarky comments and absurd puns that literally left Zuko fuming and bellowing for him to leave. He always acquiesced (gathering up his things infuriatingly slowly) only to return in a day or two to go through the motions again. 

After weeks of this idiotic behavior, Zuko was firmly convinced that Sokka secretly loathed him with the same passion as Katara and was on some twisted Water Tribe mission to drive Zuko into madness. But, just as with Katara’s hatred of him, he made an uneasy peace with it, and even grew grudgingly accustomed to it, as one would to an incessantly yapping dormhound. He was still an unwelcome intruder in their lives; he knew that, and so part of him was simply grateful that no one had attempted to murder him in his sleep. 

Even with these obstacles, things felt _right_ in a way that they hadn’t since his mother had disappeared. Much more so than wandering the palace with a constant miasma of fear, guilt and confusion enveloping him, exacerbated by Azula hovering around every corner like a devious spirit, feeding him poison under the guise of sisterly love; Mai’s affections that Zuko had tried so hard to reciprocate, smothering him until he wanted to scream; the threat of his father looming over them all like an ominous deity, waiting for Zuko to fail again, watching with those cold, pitiless eyes.

Yes, even if he died fighting his own nation, his own family, it was better to be here. The thought of returning to all of that misery was enough to send a shudder of horror through him, body going cold as if he’d been doused in icy water. There was immeasurable comfort in knowing he’d rather be here, surrounded by people who distrusted (and sometimes outright hated) him and doing what was right than keeping up that awful charade at home. The universe must have realized things were going just a little too well for Zuko, however, because just as he’d grown a little more confident in his place among the group, a little more comfortable, the insufferable Water Tribe peasant had to upset the delicate balance of things.

It was a particularly hot and humid day, and though it wasn’t yet noon, Zuko was drenched in sweat. He’d just finished demonstrating a strenuous series of firebending forms to Aang, and his clothing was clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He stripped off his tunic with a grunt of irritation and tossed it carelessly aside, signaling to Aang to copy what he’d done. The now familiar chatter and scrape of metal on stone emanating from Sokka’s chosen corner came to an abrupt halt. Zuko glanced over curiously, sweeping his sodden bangs from his forehead, to find Sokka’s eyes fixated on his bare torso; cheeks flushed and teeth worrying his lower lip.

Zuko froze, a fresh wave of heat rolling over his body, prickling his skin and settling low in his stomach. Sokka’s gaze drifted lazily upwards, pausing briefly in his pecs before continuing upward to his face. Sokka’s entire body gave a jolt when their eyes met, face turning an alarming shade of red.

“Nice form!” Sokka squeaked suddenly, fumbling the sword in his hand and almost impaling his own leg. “I mean, that thing you just did, not your— _you_. Not that your _form_ form isn’t good, too! Not that _I’d_ notice something like that. But I’m sure all the ladies do, am I right?” He barked a short, hysterical laugh.

Sokka’s panicked rambling had apparently run its course, and he looked beseechingly to Zuko to fill the awkward silence. Unfortunately, all the breath seemed to have fled Zuko’s lungs, and he didn’t know if he could conjure even a flicker of flame, let alone string enough words together to form a sentence. 

“Zuko! Did you see that? How’d I do?” Aang’s voice rang out excitedly, echoing off the crumbling stone walls and frightening a nearby flock of fowl. They rose into the air, hissing in protest. Zuko jerked his attention away from Sokka, heart thundering in his chest as he faced Aang.

“Weren’t you watching?” Aang’s face fell into an expression of such profound disappointment Zuko felt a bit guilty.

“Uh, yeah, I saw you. It was decent, but don’t get cocky,” he lied poorly, voice wobbling a little. He covered it up with more grit. “Go again and do better this time.”

Aang rolled his eyes but did as he was told, thankfully seemingly unaware of the weirdness that had just taken place.

Zuko didn’t spare so much as another glance in Sokka’s direction as he made Aang run the sequence through repeatedly, determined to act as normally as possible while also wondering if Sokka was still eyeing him. He didn't get the chance to peek as Sokka himself departed shortly thereafter, not even uttering an infantile insult as he gathered up his things and left, which was definitely a first. Zuko—unable to maintain his concentration—managed to mess up three relatively simple forms in a row by tripping over his own feet and couldn’t draw enough breath into his lungs to create a decently strong enough flame to demonstrate things properly. He reluctantly called an early halt to their lesson after an hour of this, embarrassed and angry at himself. It made matters worse when Aang patted him reassuring on the shoulder before racing off to find Katara, hopefully unaware of Zuko’s real plight.

Zuko trailed after him slowly, feeling dazed. He stopped briefly to catch his breath, leaning against a crooked, moss-coated pillar, wishing fervently that the temple would finally slide off this accursed mountain and end them all. He pressed his forehead to the sun-warmed stone and closed his eyes. Sokka’s face swam unbidden behind his eyelids and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, stomach lurching with something that wasn’t quite discomfort. 

It had been less than six months, yet it felt like a lifetime since another boy had looked at Zuko the way Sokka had today. The first time since…

He shied away from that line of thinking instantly and pushed himself forcefully from the pillar. It shifted the tiniest bit under his hands, just enough to send him walking away briskly before it had the chance to crash down on his head. 

Unfortunately, there were limited options with which to entertain oneself at camp, and Zuko really needed to be _doing_ something. He was practically vibrating out of his skin. Not wanting to risk dismemberment by attempting to practice with his dao in his current state, he decided to occupy himself by performing every menial task that needed doing around camp. Toph and Katara both seemed equally disturbed by his sudden passion for completing all the most mundane chores single-handedly, such as chopping wood, sweeping the dirt and debris from the areas they were inhabiting, re-filling the water pails at the fountain (“I’m a _Waterbender_ , genius. Why would I need your help with that?”) and foraging food for Appa. 

Aang chastised them both loudly, declaring—in far too solemn a manner—that Zuko had finally caught the team spirit, and they should _definitely_ let him shoulder as much of the workload as he could manage. It was around that time that Toph caught him by the collar as he tried to fly off.

“Not so fast, Twinkletoes,” she said. “If he’s done with ya”—a jerk of her thumb at Zuko, who was studiously sweeping up the dirt and debris that had accumulated—”it’s my turn for the rest of the day." She led Aang away, rubbing her hands gleefully while he dragged his feet, looking sullen.

Zuko ignored the suspicious glares Katara threw his way and kept working, surreptitiously keeping an eye out for Sokka. He seemed to have vanished, however, not even turning up for lunch. 

It was probably a good thing Sokka wasn’t there, he reasoned, still fighting back an unwanted pang of concern at his prolonged absence. What would they even have said to each other, anyway? His mind drifted to various options, each worse than the last. He could do the smart thing and pretend not to have noticed anything. That would be kindest to both of them and the most practical. Or he could play at being indignant; command Sokka to keep his eyes to himself from now on. Or maybe Zuko could give him a taste of his own medicine by making a cruel joke of the whole thing and use it as fuel to ridicule him to the end of his days. The last one caused him to feel slightly nauseous, and he dismissed it instantly. Still, any of those options were better than indulging whatever base fantasies continued to clog his brain. It disturbed Zuko how much longing he felt from simply receiving a look from another boy. One he didn’t even _like_! It was pathetic. Was he truly so desperate?

These thoughts swirled through his mind over the next few hours as he waited on tenterhooks for Sokka to return, nerves ratcheting up. He tried to help make dinner, but Katara sent him away with disgust to give Appa a bath instead when she realized the depth of his incompetence with cooking. She muttered something about spoiled princes at his retreating back.

Sokka didn’t put in an appearance until dinnertime, at which point Zuko was well and truly exhausted, muscles aching, nerves shot to pieces, and smelling very strongly of damp bison fur. Sokka came traipsing up at the fire with the Earth Kingdom kids while Zuko was doling out the stew, arm slung across Haru’s shoulder companionably, all sharing a laugh together. The panicky concern that had been creeping steadily higher since lunchtime ebbed away, leaving Zuko feeling hollow. 

Sokka seated himself between Aang and Katara, dropping a few things by the fire to show Aang. There were bits and pieces of dirt-encrusted pottery, a set of large, yellowed beads and a piece of severely decayed cloth that looked like it had, at one point in time, been part of a tapestry. As everyone _oohed_ and _aahed_ over Aang’s explanations of what they were, Zuko tried to catch Sokka’s eye, but he steadfastly avoided Zuko’s gaze. In fact, Sokka didn’t deign to acknowledge his existence at all, too busy chatting animatedly with _literary_ everyone else. It seemed Zuko needn’t have wasted most of the day deciding upon a course of action; Sokka had already decided for them both.

It stung and left Zuko feeling off-kilter, even though he knew it shouldn’t. They hardly knew each other, after all. They weren’t even _friendly_. But Zuko had always hated being ignored, and it especially chafed coming from someone who’d just been staring at him lecherously that very morning. After only a few mouthfuls of food, he found he could no longer stomach the company. He shoved his bowl aside and stalked off to bed angrily before he could embarrass himself by trying to pick a fight. Toph called dibs over his portion.


	2. Chapter 2

Zuko trudged out to breakfast the following morning, feeling about as alive as a reanimated corpse. He’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, occasionally punching his pillow for good measure. When the pale light of dawn had come trickling into his room, casting it a gloomy gray, he’d given up on sleep altogether. He was so exhausted he didn’t care that his clothing was sleep rumpled and hair in complete disarray. He wolfed down breakfast and hurried off just as Sokka came shambling over to the fire, drowsy-eyed and yawning. 

He stole away to a small alcove he’d discovered a couple weeks back. It looked out upon a ruined courtyard, the edges of which had crumbled away and now led to a sheer, sudden drop into empty space. It could be a trap for the unwary, especially in the early hours of the morning when the mist was thick enough one couldn’t see an inch past their own nose, but when the sun rose and mist cleared, it boasted an amazing view of the surrounding mountains. None of the others had given it more than a passing glance as far as he could tell, and Zuko had begun to think of it as _his_ place; one of his few opportunities for true peace when not enclosed in his small bedroom.

Zuko settled cross-legged on the cracked stone floor and watched as the first rays of sunshine peeked over the horizon, beaming down upon him. Zuko closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, something inside him unclenching as he felt power wash through him, bringing with it a deep sense of serenity and rightness with the universe and his place in it.

The scuff of nearby feet shattered Zuko’s fragile tranquility, all his jagged edges resurfacing with a vengeance. He cracked an eye open and turned toward the source of the noise. To his chagrin, Sokka stood off to one side, looking awkward with a bowl of porridge clutched between his hands.

“What are you doing here?” Zuko snapped, temper already flaring. He’d been expecting more of the silent treatment today and been prepared to respond in kind, not have Sokka seek him out before he’d even sorted through his messed-up emotions properly.

To his immense surprise, Sokka sank to the ground beside him, polite enough to put a foot of space between them. “Morning,” he said with an air of forced cheerfulness. “Just checking to make sure you weren’t running off on us. The way you stormed off without finishing dinner last night and ran away after breakfast…”

“I’m not running off,” Zuko groused, annoyed at the implication even if it Sokka was only saying it to fill the silence. Sokka took a large bite of food. “I just need to be alone to meditate. And you’re not helping.”

Sokka ignored this and vague humming noise as he continued eating. “Are you training here today?”

Zuko closed his eyes and tried to ignore the anger rising like a tide inside him at Sokka’s prodding. Admittedly, a tiny part of him was relieved Sokka was speaking to him again. “You could do something useful instead pestering me all the time,” he said in lieu of answering. “If you spent less time watching us train and more time practicing with that stupid sword, you’d probably be at least somewhat competent at wielding it.”

Sokka didn’t rise to the bait like he’d anticipated. “But what I do _is_ useful! I’m still taking notes on how to vanquish your nation and watching you guys practice your jerkbending is pretty helpful. Pestering you is just a bonus.” He smiled broadly when Zuko scowled. There was something a little wavery about it though, like Sokka wasn’t as at ease as he was pretending. 

“Funny, I don’t see you taking any notes. Isn’t writing down one’s observations an important part of the process?” Zuko said lamely, fighting the urge to squirm where he was sitting.

“Not at all! Keep it all stored up here.” Sokka rapped the side of his head lightly with his knuckles before scooping up his spoon and resuming eating with his usual gusto. “You guys have your bending, and I have my wits. It’s the handiest tool team Avatar has. Except for my skill with a sword, of course.”

Zuko frowned as Sokka waggled his eyebrows. “Your mind is as useful to us as a leaky boat.” 

Sokka laughed, a soft huff of a thing, like he’d been holding his breath. Then he launched into an extended rant about all the times his quick thinking had gotten the lot of out of sticky situations, and how Zuko would do well to remember it.

He tuned Sokka out, pretending to have gone back to meditating. _So that’s his game?_ he thought uncertainty. _To just play it cool, act like I didn’t catch him staring yesterday._ It was possible Sokka genuinely believed Zuko hadn’t noticed anything unusual _._ Or perhaps—the thought filled him with shame—Sokka hadn’t been eyeing him up yesterday; maybe Zuko’s overtired mind had misinterpreted things. It wouldn’t be difficult to go along with that, he had to admit. This morning, inhaling the cool mountain air while the sun beamed down, offering them its warmth and fortitude, yesterday felt like nothing more than a hazy dream. It didn’t seem implausible that Zuko had simply been imagining things.

“Hey, so,” Sokka said, apropos of nothing, snapping Zuko out of his musings. He was fiddling with his empty bowl, looking uncharacteristically serious. The lingering awkwardness between them returned tenfold. Zuko’s stomach clenched in anticipation. “You seemed pretty mad last night, and I hope it wasn’t because of me. I-”

A great gust of wind, strong enough to blow them both over, drowned his next words. Aang flew overhead, landing in front of them with a flourish. It had sent Sokka’s empty bowl flying, and he went chasing after it, screeching in annoyance. By the time he’d retrieved it, Zuko had bustled off with Aang to begin their training for the day, and whatever Sokka had been about to say was lost.

Things felt less awkward after that, however, and may have slowly returned to normal, but for the fact Zuko was now hyperaware of their every interaction between them. Over the following week he couldn’t fail to notice how oddly Sokka behaved around him; things he’d been missing for who knew how long.

Apart from apparently eyeing Zuko up during training, often at mealtimes Sokka would look away, blush tingeing his cheeks when Zuko met his gaze across the fire. It was impossible to miss how he grinned extra wide whenever Zuko smiled grudgingly at one of his awful jokes. Once, their fingers brushed as Zuko was passing around cups of tea, and Sokka promptly spilled it all over himself. Emboldened, perhaps, by Zuko’s lack of retaliation when caught staring, Sokka sought him out just before bed one night, seemingly for the sole purpose of making loud boastful claims about his prowess in battle. There was much flexing of biceps involved.

Sokka was in the middle of regaling him of a time when he’d single handedly fought off twenty monstrous creatures in the Great Divide when Zuko cut him off. “If you’re as good as you say you are, maybe we should spar sometime.” He meant it only half-teasingly. “I could really use the practice.”

Sokka stammered out his approval, eyes bright, before scampering off to his own bedroom. Zuko watched him go, anxiety gnawing at his belly. Despite his myriad of faults, Zuko liked to think he wasn’t the bumbling, oblivious fool Azula loved to claim he was. He’d have to have been blinder than a badgermole not to notice Sokka’s infatuation. It just seemed too absurd, too _strange,_ to be real. This was _Sokka_ , the guy he’d kicked around when he’d first stepped foot into the Southern Water Tribe, whom he’d chased around half the world trying to injure or capture, who had regarded Zuko with such hostility when he’d first arrived to join them.

The attention was wholly unexpected, but not as unwelcome as Zuko wished it was. If only he could reach inside Sokka’s mind and pluck the thoughts from his head; make certain he wasn’t misinterpreting things. Selfishly, he hoped not. It had been so long since another boy had looked at Zuko the way Sokka did; an object to lust after, if nothing else.

 _What does it matter if he likes me?_ Zuko thought forlornly as he crawled beneath his covers one night. _There’s nothing down that road but disgrace. If I’m to be the Firelord, I can’t do that—_ be _like that—anymore._

It had seemed easy enough to wall off the more detestable parts of himself when he’d first returned to the Fire Nation with Azula, because he hadn’t doubted for a second that his father would have outright killed him if he’d discovered his son’s proclivities. Now Sokka and his stupid, moony eyes had torn through that walled off place as easily as one tore through delicate parchment. To his horror, he felt wetness on his cheeks, and he knuckled the tears savagely from his eyes. 

Lying there alone in the dark, sleep became impossible as his mind drifted through obscene scenarios and dangerous what-ifs. It wasn’t as is if he was seeking a serious relationship. There was no place for such a thing in his life, and besides, he knew what happened to the men and women who got caught. But there were other things, safer things. Zuko was no stranger to them; to being a vassal for another’s pleasure and allowing them to discard him afterward, forgotten.

 _Not always,_ the treacherous thought rolled through his mind, fog-like and dreamy as he hovered on the edge of sleep. _Don’t you remember?_

Yes, of course he remembered Ryu. It hardly counted as they had been so young, but he still remembered himclear as day. A boy with floppy brown hair that was constantly falling into his face, wide grey eyes, and a mouth made for smiles and laughter. He’d been a simple kitchen boy, the son of some baker, no fit companion for a prince. He had enthralled Zuko, all the same, ever since he’d first caught sight of him playing with a gaggle of other servants’ children. Zuko hadn’t understood the feelings bubbling inside him at the time. All he’d known was this intense desire to be closer to him, to have all that bright energy trained in his direction.

Zuko had always attempted to wander by when he glimpsed Ryu in a hallway or playing on the grounds, seething with jealousy at the easy way others would talk to him. Finally, when a month had passed, and all he’d gotten from Ryu were averted eyes and stiff bows, Zuko had marched up to him in a fit of anger and demanded they be friends. Ryu had looked him in the eye for the first time and laughed long and loud, saying that if that was what his prince commanded, he had little choice but to obey. Zuko had smiled bashfully back, unsure if he was being laughed at, but finding he didn’t really care.

The weeks that followed retained a dreamy, magical quality in his mind. Things other than antagonizing Zuko had occupied Azula, so she and her friends weren’t around a lot. He and Ryu had had the run of the palace grounds. They’d played tense games hide-and-seek in the palace; engaged in furious stick fights that left them both lying in the grass bruised and panting; climbed trees to snatch the choicest fruit from the branches, running away when the guards shouted at them, breathless with giggles, fingers and faces sticky with juice. Ryu’s father was a baker, and he’d been teaching his son the craft, so he had always smelled of flour and herbs and freshly baked bread. Ryu would often smuggle a stale loaf out with him after he’d finished his work, and they’d sit by the pond, tearing off chunks and throwing them to the turtleducks. Fun as that had been, Zuko’s favorite times had been when they’d played at kissing. Zuko remembered the brush of his lips, chaste and soft, both of them giggling nervously. 

One day, his mother had caught them at it, her shadow falling across them where they were sitting by the water. She’d looked over them with a fury in her eyes to match her husband’s. It was the only time she’d ever truly frightened Zuko. She’d barked an order and Ryu had run away whilst stuttering apologies, face pale as milk, tripping over his own feet in his haste to obey. 

She’d dragged Zuko to his room by the arm, hand claw-like, nails pinching painfully into his skin. Azula’s giggles followed them down the hall, always thrilled to see Zuko in trouble.

His mother had shut the door firmly and knelt, so they were face-to-face, grasping him hard by the shoulders. “You must never do that again,” she’d said in an urgent whisper, just loud enough for Zuko to hear. “ _Never_.”

“I don’t understand.” Tears had streamed down his cheeks in a steady cascade.

“You cannot do such things, Zuko. It would bring about more trouble than you can imagine!” She’d shaken him slightly. “If your sister had seen you—”

She’d choked to a halt then continued more slowly. “Bad things would happen if you were caught. Things I’m not capable of protecting you from. You must _never_ do that with a boy again, only with girls. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he’d said, even though he didn’t, crying harder.

“Promise me, Zuko,” she’d pressed, eyes still wide with terror she couldn’t conceal.

“I promise. I promise, I won’t.”

She’d hugged fiercely him then, trembling as she held him. She hadn’t released him until they’d both calmed down, then sent for some tea Uncle Iroh had gifted them the week prior. They’d sipped it quietly together for a time before she’d kissed his head and left him to attend to his sister, leaving him confused and scared. They’d never spoken of it again.

When enough time had passed for him to feel bold again, he’d snuck down to the kitchens to find his friend. He’d discovered that Ryu and his parents were no longer among the other bakers. His mother had sent them away in the dead of night, one of the cooks’ children had informed him quietly; no one knew where they’d gone. He’d had nightmares for months afterward, worrying that his mother had shipped them off to the colonies. But when he’d braved asking her, she had frowned and told him she’d sent them to serve a different household. It was seen as an honor to the other family, sending the royal family’s own bakers to serve them, and thus they would receive kind treatment.

He was sad not to have gotten the chance to see Ryu again, but it pacified him to know he was happy somewhere.

Zuko had kept the promise he’d made his mother. He hadn’t kissed another boy since, but he’d done other things. _Worse_ things. His mother’s warnings and the eventual understanding of how his own nation viewed people like him hadn’t been enough to dampen his desires as he’d gotten older.

He shuddered and curled in on himself a little as his thoughts shifted to Jet. The beautiful outlaw, with those dark, shrewd eyes, and cruel mouth that had always borne a smirk. Zuko shut his eyes tight as he tried ineffectually to will the memories away. They’d only known each other for a short while, but their brief time together was seared into Zuko’s memory.

Spirits, but he’d had such rough hands. Hands that had handled Zuko’s body carelessly, leaving bruises and scratches in their wake—small, painful tokens of their encounters. A mouth that had greedily bitten and sucked marks into Zuko’s pale skin. He’d quite enjoyed bending Zuko over in whatever tucked-away area they could find on the ship and having his way with him. He’d never pressured him for more intimacy than those hurried couplings, for which Zuko was grateful. The remembrance of the lust and urgency between them caused Zuko’s gut to churn. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, hand sliding down his stomach as his resolve crumbled into so much dust.

**Author's Note:**

> I used the underage warning to be safe, but I headcanon Zuko and Sokka as 18 and encourage everyone else to do the same.


End file.
